


First Spring Rain

by OhNoMyBreadsticks



Series: Side Stories: Of Gods and their Humans [10]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Bathing/Washing, Elder God, Hair Washing, Introspection, M/M, Spring
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-02
Updated: 2020-02-02
Packaged: 2021-02-28 06:15:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22529212
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OhNoMyBreadsticks/pseuds/OhNoMyBreadsticks
Summary: The seasons turn, and spring sees Connor returning to familiar ground.(Can be read as a stand-alone)
Relationships: Captain Allen/CyberLife Tower Connor | RK800-60
Series: Side Stories: Of Gods and their Humans [10]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1325048
Comments: 24
Kudos: 32





	First Spring Rain

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Finnijer](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Finnijer/gifts).



> This was written for the fantastic Finnijer, who leaves such thoughtful and kind comments! They always make me smile, and that support helps me keep writing and stay excited for this series!! Finnijer asked for a scene exploring Allen and Connor60 being/getting close, and I am so so proud of how this scene turned out! I hope you enjoy <3
> 
> Extra clarity note: this fic is set in the 1800s, several hundred years prior to the main storyline! Timeline can be found [here](https://ohnomybreadsticks.tumblr.com/be9timeline)!

In the early months, when the year is still young, Connor wanders far afield. The endless expanse of the prairie beckons to him, and he makes his way through snow drifts and skeletal copses of spindly trees with cautious paws. He watches the way the world turns as the seasons change, relinquishing ownership of the land to one another. Here, the process is slow and angry, winter digging in its claws long past the typical handover to spring. The first gentle shoots poke through the earth and are met with the biting fangs of late frost. But living things prevail, as always, and soon Connor has mud under his paws as he trots along.

There’s a nagging in his mind, though, as he looks up and watches the grey sky shifting above him, wind buffeting curtain after curtain of cloud across the sun. Connor is thinking of nothing and everything, simply feeling the shift of a snake in the grass twenty yards away. And yet, again and again, his mind wanders to the single cabin in its neat plot, the grass around it bent to heel by firm hands and sharp blade. He wonders if the spring planting has begun, or if the earth is yet too hard for that. If the man doesn’t make a start soon, he won’t have the right crops for the rest of the year. Perhaps… Connor might indulge his own curiosity and also check that the survival of the only tolerable human he has ever met is not being threatened.

The spring rains threaten the whole journey back, Connor feeling the oppressive swell of the moisture in the air. It’s going to be a cold rain, what with the wind still whipping up the winter chill, and he has no desire to be caught in it. The cabin finally comes into view, and there, in the plot next to it, Allen labors away at the earth. Even from a distance, Connor can see the strength of him, the way his muscles move and bunch beneath his loose work shirt. He’s beautiful like this, the god supposes, in the way that all living things are as they struggle for their continued survival. 

Connor feels the first drop of rain hit his coat, and dashes under the protective awning of the cabin’s roof to continue watching Allen. The man sees him, because of course he does, but doesn’t pause in his ministrations. The rain has similarly no effect on Allen, who continues to work even as the sky splits open and rain pours down onto him. By the time he has finished whatever task he set himself, he’s soaked through to the bone, shirt clinging to his body and practically see through at this point. Both Connor and Allen seem to silently agree it’s not worth keeping on, since he strips from the waist up as soon as he gets inside the cabin.

Suddenly Connor is standing on two feet next to Allen, looking down appraisingly at him, eyes taking in the new marks and human blemishes that show the passage of time. Nothing stays the same when he is away, it seems. Something about that rankles him, but he firmly decides to ignore the feeling. Neither of them speak, Allen simply nodding up at the god before brushing past him to get to the stove, where buckets of water are set out. A bath, Connor realizes, a true luxury. Allen must be feeling indulgent.  _ Or lonely _ , something deep in the corner of his mind suggests. Nonsense, really, the man intentionally isolates himself. Serves him right if the only heat he feels against his skin is the warm water of a monthly bath.

Allen moves quickly, heating the water and throwing it in the tub, and Connor quickly realises why. He’s shivering, the rain water soaking him and the spring chill causing goosebumps to break out across his skin. Only the admirably tight clench of his jaw keeps his teeth from chattering. Connor relents from his strict policy of no work, simply because it will not do to have Allen fall ill at planting season. Stepping forward, he sets a warm hand on Allen’s cold forearm, and pushes him gently towards the tub.

“Get in. I’ll finish the rest.” Connor commands, and Allen obeys. Or rather, he can no longer resist the siren call of the steaming bath. He quickly strips, sinking into the water with a long low groan. Connor’s ears prick towards the sound with interest, taking it as the supplication he should be enjoying now as a reward for his help. His  _ continued  _ help, he might add, as once he was done filling up the tub, Connor pulls up a little stool and gets to work rubbing soap into Allen’s hair and down his neck to his shoulders. His hands are somewhat ungentle, unused to the taks, but Allen doesn’t complain. Instead, he leans his head further back into the pressure, and Connor can see that his eyes are closed. 

Outside, the rain continues to pour down onto the earth, soaking into it and ensuring the growth of new life. Connor could make a quip as he pours water from a pitcher over Allen’s head, but instead he holds his tongue and listens to the soft sighs the man is making as warm water and soap slide down his skin and into the tub. He’s beautiful like this, Connor thinks, not as any other living creature, but as himself. As the man who has let Connor so far into his life that he does not even need to speak to welcome him back. Hm. The only sounds between them are the sounds of water, dripping and running and changing despite all attempts to corral it.

“Thank you.” Allen finally says, and his words fall upon Connor like the rain upon the parched spring earth.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed it!!
> 
> As always, any and all comments or kudos are loved and cherished <3 If you'd like to see more of my drabbles or stop by for a chat you can find me over on [tumblr](https://ohnomybreadsticks.tumblr.com/)! :)


End file.
